


Chemistry

by Valeria2067



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bath, Bathing/Washing, M/M, References to Drugs, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3488528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/pseuds/Valeria2067
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John find out exactly why a perfume boutique is popular enough to warrant a high-level investigation. Later, they go in-depth themselves, so to speak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemistry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [watsonsdick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/watsonsdick/gifts).



> For Samanta (watsonsdick) for her birthday. Based on her manips below.

 

_Love isn’t a drug, at least not in the strictest sense of the word._

_Sex, however….._

John knew the basics about aphrodisiacs, pheromones, sex drive stimulants,all of that. Textbook stuff from med school, mostly. Plenty of times, when he’d felt the rush of endorphins in bed, on the sofa, in the car, in a darkened alley, in a tent in the middle of the desert, he’d thought how brilliant it would be if somebody could put that sensation in a bottle and sell it..

He’d just never expected to find exactly that, beautifully packaged and insanely expensive, on offer in the heart of London’s finest shopping district.

"Mycroft has intelligence that there may be an underground arms ring, judging by the money transfers coming in from heads of state," Sherlock had said. "Possibly chemical warfare components, possibly state secrets…."

"Not just a scent fetish, then?" John had asked, looking over Sherlock’s shoulder at the boutique’s main website page.  _Samsari Luxury Parfumerie_

At Mycroft’s request, they’d decided to have a look in. John couldn’t imagine why Sherlock would agree to something so…mundane…until the moment when he saw their “cover” disguises.

John’s was an elegant made-to-measure Saville Row suit —how long had Mycroft (or Sherlock) had that waiting at the ready, for Christ’s sake?— in a deep bluish charcoal.

Sherlock’s was a pair of form-fitting black leather trousers, a button-down dark blue silk shirt that probably cost as much as a new sports car, and…. John had to swallow hard when he saw them…. a pair of black patent-leather ankle boots with heels high enough to make a Milan runway model get a nosebleed.

"Fuck," he’d whispered.

"That’s the idea, anyway, John. You’re the wealthy businessman; I’m your current obsession. While they woo your money, I’ll be free to flit around like a bored diva—"

"That’ll be a stretch—"

"—to look for evidence. If there is any. And shut up."

The investigation, however, had been a bust. Just not the kind of bust Mycroft’s people had prepared for. There were indeed many, many important and influential people among the Parfumerie’s clientele. But those people weren’t looking for state secrets, or military weapons. They were actually looking for the most expensive scent the boutique carried.

"Sex in a bottle," John murmured into Sherlock’s damp curls.

It had been over ten hours since their trip to the shop, their first waft of the prized perfume, their frankly indecent unconscionable charge on Mycroft’s expense account, and their pornographic taxi cab ride back to Baker Street. John was sure to give the cabbie quite a bit extra, considering the man drove safely all the way using just one hand.

They’d each applied a few more drops of scent when they got into the flat, and the next six hours were a frenzy of kissing, sucking, fucking, groping, biting, over and over, soreness and fatigue and the normal physical limits of their anatomy be damned.

Three showers later, the scent was still hanging, though much fainter now, on their skin.  

A long, luxurious bath seemed the only option, really. They could use the hydration, if nothing else.

"I’ll have to call off work at the surgery tomorrow, looks like. My legs feel like overstretched elastic bands. How about you? Any better?"

"Mmmm. Not unmanageable," Sherlock purred from his position, lying back against John, his feet resting on the edge of the tub. "Though I may avoid sitting for most of the day."

"Erm, yeah. That might be best. Speaking as your personal physician, obviously." John gathered some of the soap suds in his palm and smoothed them down Sherlock’s glowing skin. It was a treat to see Sherlock this flushed but relaxed. He’d happily spend the rest of his life just like this, skin to skin, warm, blissed-out, fulfilled, content, connected.

"I wonder what Mycroft has on his schedule tomorrow," Sherlock said, stifling a yawn. "I’d hate to be responsible for the downfall of the hemisphere."

"Sherlock, what did you do?"

"Oh, I merely sent him a report by courier. Sealed, of course. Airtight container."

"Sherlock…."

"Labeled it ‘FOR YOUR EYES ONLY. HIGHLY SENSITIVE.’ He’ll receive it at 9 o’clock sharp."

"And you doused it with the damn perfume, didn’t you?" John asked, trying his best to sound stern.

"Important evidence, John. I wanted him to be, shall we say, fully de-briefed before his 9:30 meeting with the Cabinet Ministers."

"He’s going to have us shot for this. You know that’s possible, right?"

Sherlock leaned back closer against John’s chest. “Well, John. We’ll just have to be sure we make the most of our last night on Earth.”


End file.
